𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

In the dark annals of British criminal history, few killings can have ever shocked our nation more than that of Ann Widdecombe. The apparent brutality of the fatal assault in her remote Devon home has been compounded by the police’s dramatic new report this week that the killing may have been politically motivated and linked to terrorism.

If that is the case, then Ms Widdecombe, a staunch traditionalist and devout Roman Catholic, effectively died for her beliefs. The sinister and gruesome circumstances of her death justify the complaints from Nigel Farage’s Reform UK party – of which Miss Widdicombe was a leading member – that the protection provided to them by the state is wholly inadequate.

Many critics of Reform have dismissed such claims as wild exaggerations, whipped up to distract attention from the party’s controversial financial dealings. But it is obvious that the danger is all too real. Only on Tuesday, Reform revealed that Farage on average receives 30 death threats a week, an announcement followed yesterday by the arrest of a man for allegedly saying he planned “to shoot” Farage.

Such incidents illustrate how poisoned the well of British politics has become, partly because much of the left, infused with self-righteousness about their mission to build “a new social order”, is intolerant of any views that challenge their agenda. Opinions that would have been mainstream only 20 years ago, on immigration, crime or marriage. are now labelled toxic hate speech. We have a political culture where the Justice Secretary David Lammy compares Brexiteers to Nazis, while former Deputy Prime Minister Angela Rayner calls her Tory opponents “scum”.

Ann Widdecombe always refused to be intimidated by the mob, though she received more than her share of abuse, particularly as a Home Office Minister in the mid-1990s when she was cruelly nicknamed ”Doris Karloff” for her resolute insistence that pregnant convicts could be handcuffed if necessary. She never complained about these attacks.

Hailing from a military family, her personality was as tough as teak. She never wilted under pressure, never gave in to self-pity. In April 2000, for instance, while attending a book-signing, she was hit in the face with a custard pie thrown by a pro-immigration protestor. After cleaning herself up, Ms Widdecombe carried on with the event, saying defiantly: “This demonstration was a mindless waste of police time carried out by people who clearly have no respect for free speech.”

Her bravery was the attribute I most admired about her. She had many qualities like her old-fashioned courtesy, sharp wit, and capacity to speak at length without any notes. But it was her refusal to bend with the prevailing wind that marked her out as a rare public figure of courage and conviction. She did what she thought was right, not popular or politically advantageous.

Along with her social conservatism and Catholic faith, her disdain for mushy sentimentality ran counter to the mood of our times. We live in an age where people are encouraged to see themselves as victims, to wallow in perpetual grievance, and to turn minor problems into mental health crises. Welfare dependency is growing at an alarming rate. Soppiness, enfeeblement, handwringing and excuse-making are endemic.

As the culture of victimhood tightens its gip, the perpetually upset find “offence” round every corner. Just as worryingly, the fixation with therapy and counselling leads people to become more inward-looking, narcissistic and convinced that all their feelings are legitimate, no matter how ugly or dangerous. Ann was a wonderful antidote to all this nonsense. She loathed whinging and whining; “Buck up” and “get on with it” were two of his favourite exhortations.

If we could bring back some of her fighting spirit and rebuild some of Britain’s resilience, that would be the greatest legacy she could leave in the wake of this tragedy.